


Wearing nothing but your boots

by onotherflights



Series: Inspired by a song [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, JJ owns the bar, M/M, Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Otabek is Robert from Dream Daddy, basically Otabek wants Yuri to step on him, boot kink, but there's a good ending, i mean same, yuri is a bartender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onotherflights/pseuds/onotherflights
Summary: “Don't mind sharing with me, right?” Yuri questioned as he poured out the last of his bottle, uncaring if the stranger had nodded or not.It was closing time, and it was time to rectify the situation of being strangers, so Yuri hopped up on the counter, throwing his bare legs over the side. He threw his long hair over his shoulder, tucking it behind his ear and looking up at the stranger through his light eyelashes. He wouldn't be a stranger for long.





	Wearing nothing but your boots

**Author's Note:**

> So, if u know me, you know i love Kesha. So much. This was inspired by her new song "boots". Pls support my sweet kesha rose.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is more fun than anything, naturally un-betaed so let me know if anything went wrong. Enjoy!

Yuri was used to the confusion.

With his long blonde hair and his spiked nails, his pert ass stuffed into cut off denim shorts, he looked like quite a few people. It was always someone’s ex-girlfriend, or someone they had fucked in college, until he turned around. The eyes were always what shattered the illusion.

Once, he had been stoned and decided to sit with a fortune teller. There was no crystal ball or scraggly haired woman, just a girl in a crop top with a Sublime album playing in the background. She told him that he had the eyes of a killer. She was only half right.

“Hey baby,” It began, conveniently as Yuri was taking a shot. “When do you get off?”

He turned around, a shot glass in one hand and a bottle of fireball in the other. The stranger’s smile was soft, hopeful, and his eyes hazy with alcohol.

Yuri leaned over the bar, setting down the bottle. The stranger was looking down his shirt. “Usually right between drinking the blood of my enemies and sacrificing my lover’s heart to satan.”

The stranger immediately frowned,his face gone sour as if there really were a worm in his tequila. Yuri leaned in closer, enough that his warm cinnamon-tinted breath fanned over the pasty pale man’s face.

“Are you into knife play?”

The stranger’s face twisted into a more sour and confounded expression, and he turned and hopped off the barstool, throwing the first bill in his wallet onto the counter. It was far too much, a twenty, but Yuri gave a saccharine smile and slipped the cash into his pocket. He considered it, peering over the rim of the glass, and knocked back the rest of the drink, giving a quick cheer as he downed it clean.

There was only a few other people at the bar and everyone had their drinks, so no one was really paying attention to him. The couple at one end were wrapped up in each other, the string of lights above the bar reflecting in their wide eyes like stars.

At the end, practically in the corner, a guy in a leather jacket was nursing a whiskey neat, leaning half over it like he was protecting it from the grime of the dive bar’s thinning midnight crowd. Yuri briefly imagined the stranger leaning over him the same way, although maybe with a little more enthusiasm.

Apparently Yuri had caught his attention, because when they locked eyes he smirked, peering at him over the rim of his glass. It was only a moment of brown eyes watching him, but it was enough for Yuri. However, he was quickly distracted by the firm call of his own name.

“Yuri!” JJ scolded as he passed by from the opposite end of the bar, smacking his ass with a bar towel, “How many times have I told you not to drink on the job, kitten?”

“About as many times as I've said not to call me that.”

JJ walked backward toward his office, smirking at him. “Except in bed, hmm?”

Narrowing his eyes, Yuri slid his third finger against the edge of the glass on the counter he'd downed, collecting the salt. He put on a face that would make a porn star envious, moaning dramatically as he licked the middle finger he was sticking right at his boss on the rocks, JJ. While his eyes were going back in his head, Jean just shook his head and rolled his own pair of blue as he swung open the door. Yuri smiled lightly once he was out of range, and got back to work. If he purposely kept his back turned to the sexy stranger in the corner, it was not without constant thought that eyes were following him.

He'd been working at JJ’s pub for a few months, which was pretty impressive considering his track record. If he hadn't been messing around with the boss though, maybe he wouldn't have lasted so long. JJ was fun, if only for being a selfish lover. Still, he knew Yuri’s limits. Besides, it would be fun manipulating him while it lasted, before he was on to a new town and a new life. Staying in one place too long wasn't something Yuri liked to do, it stopped his hair from growing. Anyways, JJ wasn't even half Irish, so it didn’t make sense that he had a pub. He was like quarter or some shit.

Neither was that bad, the pub or the sex. The pub gave him an easy job and free food, and some nights he crashed upstairs in JJ’s apartment.

Sometimes, JJ was left wondering if his little kitten had finally gone astray. Yuri was a tiny bit notorious for running away, and the winds were changing. It was only a matter of time.

Yuri kept his mind off the winds and the stranger until the ninth inning of his shift, when he hopped up on the bar and began unlacing his boots.

“Can I get another whiskey, please?”

Yuri looked up at the stranger, focusing instantly on the subtle curve of his lip, and then back at the bottle he'd had by his side all night. He finished unlacing his boots, his bare feet padding on the sticky wet floor and across towards the stranger with the bottle in hand.

“Don't mind sharing with me, right?” Yuri questioned as he poured out the last of his bottle, uncaring if the stranger had nodded or not.

It was closing time, and it was time to rectify the situation of being strangers, so Yuri hopped up on the counter, throwing his bare legs over the side. He threw his long hair over his shoulder, tucking it behind his ear and looking up at the stranger through his light eyelashes. He wouldn't be a stranger for long.

 

 

His name was Otabek Altin, and he was a dog person. Being pinned against a wall was only slightly less of a turn on when he could feel a bulldog pawing and licking at his legs. They'd barely gotten through the door, and Otabek was practically trying to climb inside him with the way his hands and his mouth were all over.  

Yuri turned his head and let kisses trail down his neck, looking down at the overexcited dog panting and slobbering next to them.

“I don't know who’s more excited,” He smirked, his blunt nails scratching against the shaved buzz of Otabek’s hair, bucking his hips up where he could feel the other man pressed hard against his thighs. “You, or your dog.”

The brunette gave a low groan and finally pulled away from his assault on Yuri’s neck, still holding the blonde’s hip in one hand as he knelt down to comfort the dog.

“Chill, bear,” he chastised gently, petting his head as the dog panted. Yuri giggled softly, biting into his cherry-red lips. Of course the dog’s name was bear.

A moment later, Yuri was swept off his feet. He'd been thrown over shoulders plenty of times, only a few times when he was sober, but he'd never been picked up like that. It took his breath away a little bit.

It had started out so simple, so typical. They'd talked at the bar for an hour or so, Yuri playing all the cards he usually did with a subtle hand. After closing up, they walked towards his apartment with a palpable sexual tension between them and he had asked, “So, are we doing this, or what?”

Yuri had smirked coyly, leaning in once again. “What?”

“You know,” Otabek replied, his hands snaking around Yuri’s waist, “Are you coming inside or not?”

Since making the decision to go in, Yuri had two tongues on him and had been carried across the living room bridal style. As Otabek passed through the threshold of his bedroom, Yuri couldn't resist another stolen kiss.

Otabek stayed remarkably respectful during the undressing. Yuri’s shirt was the first to go, pulled over his head and flung across the room without care. Otabek's shirt soon joined, and as he made his way down Yuri’s body, his jeans fell off until they were kicked aside with his worn biker boots and socks. A messy line of kisses made their way from his slender neck, down the expanse of his chest, and trailed towards the soft hair below his navel, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his shorts.

Yuri liked the look of Otabek on his knees in front of him.

“Sit on the bed,” was his husky instruction, and Yuri was quick to comply. He went to unbutton his tiny cutoff shorts, but was a little perplexed when Otabek stayed in front of him, kneeling, and tapped his chest. Yuri’s fingers stilled on his zipper.

“Your boots,” he explained simply, waiting.

He wasn't used to being caught off guard. He was used to the hookup formula, which usually involved a simple subtraction of clothing and a simple addition of a dick in his ass.

Hesitantly, Yuri lifted his foot and pressed the rubber sole of it against Otabek’s chest, as he was told.

For the second time in such a short span, he temporarily forgot to breathe. Otabek pressed in, like he wanted to be under Yuri’s boot, like the weight of it against his bare skin was turning him on. His thick eyelashes briefly fluttered, those piercing brown narrowed, and he groaned so low and quiet Yuri was sure he'd imagined it.

With careful movements, he trailed his fingers along Yuri’s pale but strong calves, the bone of his ankle. They moved, almost delicately, to undo the messy and quick laceup that Yuri had done before they left the bar, the strings coming undone between his deft endeavors.

He pulled one boot off, placing it aside, and looked up at Yuri. Wordlessly, Yuri pressed the other foot against his chest.

Yuri watched him repeat his motions with hazy eyes, leaning back on his elbows. When they were off, Otabek kissed his inner thighs, and Yuri let go.

He let his head fall back, a shaky breath pass through his smudged-paint lips. He closes his eyes, but he could feel Otabek’s tongue again, his teeth. Then, hesitant hands at the front of his shorts, thumbs in his belt loops again.

“Can I take these off?”

Yuri nodded quickly, half pushing them off himself, unashamed at the lack of anything underneath them. Otabek groaned again, this time making it known, and pressed a soft kiss to his bare hip. It was sweet, unfittingly so for the situation, and Yuri was hoping to get the show moving.

“I'm already -” he murmured hastily, his hands clutched in dark hair. “How do you want me?”

Otabek didn't respond verbally, just kissed him hard and pulled away too quick to flip him onto his stomach, rough hands pulling his hips up.

Yuri hadn't been lying, he was already prepped. He’d had a little fun with JJ before his shift, and he had been fully expecting to use JJ to fuck himself after work, but then. Then he met Otabek. Otabek, who carried him to bed and ensured he was comfortable and seemed only concerned with making him feel good. Otabek, who was keeping him turned on for an extended period, a rare quality in men. Usually he got bored when the game was no longer so easy, but with Otabek, he was on his toes, and he was anything but bored. It hadn't been that way with anyone in a long time. He didn't want to think about it all too much.

Still, Otabek took his time. Yuri was frustrated, biting the pillow his face was pressed into and pushing back on the slicked fingers inside of him. It had been fifteen minutes too long.

“Just fuck me already,” he complained, and had the breath knocked out of him again. Otabek slid his fingers out and kissed the base of his spine before turning him over again by his hips, laying him flat on the bed.

“I changed my mind,” he said lowly, lifting Yuri’s right leg up and hooking an ankle over his shoulder. He briefly turned his head, pressing kisses into pale skin, and then turned his brown eyes back to meet green. Yuri could already tell that this guy wasn't a man of many words, but the ones he did choose were said with purpose, meant to pack a punch and knock someone right to their knees.

“I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

It worked. If Yuri wasn't already under him, he'd be dropping to his knees for him. Or was it Otabek who preferred to do that?

Yuri practically whimpered at the sound of the words, desperately pulling him down for a kiss with a punishing grip in his hair. He could feel Otabek pushing his boxers down, putting a condom on, but he held him close.

“Is that something you want me to do, Yuri?”

Another frantic nod and a knowing smirk, and Yuri dealt his fatal card. He put on his best wanton face, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

“I need you.”

It wasn't true. Yuri had never needed anyone. He made his way from town to town, found work however he could, and then moved on when things got boring or the winds blew another way.

He wasn't one to indulge and linger, wasn't one to take things slow.

Except, as Otabek pushed inside of him with one painstakingly slow and full movement and he closed his eyes the moment he felt them rolling back, he thought maybe there were some exceptions.

Maybe some people were built to be savored.

 

 

Yuri hadn't meant to fall asleep, he really hadn't. After a round and a half, he couldn't keep his eyes open, and he could feel in the air the sun would soon be rising. He fell into Otabek’s arms just as the first hint of pink touched the horizon.

When he woke up tangled in white sheets that he didn't recognize, he startled. His hair was a tangled mess, and his head hurt. His mouth was bone dry, but Otabek had thought ahead and set a bottle of water next to him. Careful not to make any noise, he took a few swigs and slipped out of bed. It only took a couple looks back at Otabek sleeping naked and uncovered, his back to Yuri, for him to put his clothes back on. He successfully got back into his beer-soaked pub shirt and beloved shorts, but he couldn't find his boots anywhere, despite knowing exactly where they had been last night. The mental image of an extremely attractive man under the press of his foot was all too happy to set up camp at the front of Yuri’s mind.

When he escaped to the living room, he finally found them, and almost mourned if not for the fear of waking Otabek.

Bear sat on the couch, fat and panting away, Yuri’s favorite black boots slobbered on and chewed to ruin. With a sigh, Yuri went back into the bedroom and grabbed the first pair he saw — Otabek’s sexy black biker boots with a thick sole and an o-ring buckle.

He washed his face and left a note by the coffee pot with his number, his exit from the apartment silent and fleeting.

_Thanks for the fun, stole your boots. They look better on me. Call if you need someone to run away with._

Yuri never really thought about what people would think whenever he inevitably left. He was sure he had past lovers all over the country by now who woke up one morning to find he had gone and was never coming back.

He was sure that was the thought of a certain man, his hair dark between Yuri’s light fingers and his sweat-soaked skin under Yuri’s tongue. Maybe Yuri was wrong to leave him. He'd been nothing but good to Yuri. At the end of the day, good was boring. Good wasn't good enough, had a stifling quality to it. Yuri wasn't made to be good, he was made to be free.

“Sorry I couldn't give my two weeks, but we’ve got to hit the road,” he explained over the pay phone and was instantly met with questions.

Across the lot, an engine revved and Yuri looked up. He was gorgeous with that bike between his legs, nothing on but his jeans and his boots.

“Yura,” he called, barely heard over the engine and the truck stop music. “Are you coming with me or not?”

Yuri smiled, sticking his tongue out.

“Sorry JJ, you couldn’t handle the claws, so you don’t get this kitty.”

With that, he dashed out of the phone booth leaving the receiver dangling by the cord, JJ yelling at no one to come back.

He kissed Otabek until they were breathless and then got back onto the bike, clutching his waist. On the open road Yuri let his arms extend over his head as he threw it back, the fringe leather tassels on his jacket flying behind him like wings.

After that first night, Otabek had called the way that Yuri knew he would. He had never stopped calling, and Yuri realized maybe keeping someone around and savoring them wasn't so hard after all. At least, it wasn't hard with Otabek. He was more than a good one time fuck. He was the laughter at 3 AM when they stayed up talking about their journeys and how they had lead to the same path. He was the thunder inside of Yuri that had lay dormant and came back with a vengeance. He was feather light kisses in the morning, the reassurance that the day could be started slow. He was the pulse and beat when they were dancing to songs they didn't like, but they loved the way it made them move against each other. Otabek was hard to handle, rough around the edges, maybe a little too untamable for someone who looked for that sort of thing in people. He wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but he was Yuri’s top-shelf shot of whiskey.

They wandered together freely, from town to town. They knew it wouldn't last forever, but the moment was the only forever worth knowing. They made good love in bad motel rooms, the thunder outside shaking the glass windows. They went everywhere on the bike, Otabek driving with Bear in the sidecar and Yuri wrapped around his back. Their life became one path, one open road. An endless Summer.

Even still, Yuri liked to keep him under foot. Otabek loved it, they both knew he was a slave to Yuri’s body and soul. He loved being surprised, never knowing quite what Yuri had up his sleeves.

He loved those nights, when the wind was just turning and the air was thick, and he'd be called to their one-night bedroom to find Yuri wearing a choker with a silver circle ring at its center — and nothing else. 

Nothing, that is, but Otabek’s boots.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr @onotherflights !


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